Phoenix's Legacy
by Mistress Dawnstar
Summary: UPDATED CH.6 UP! A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step up to her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.
1. Prologue

**Summary:** A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress trying to fit into her mother's shoes, a young girl walking the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. A Cinderella story with a completely different twist. Please R and R.

**Author's note:** This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so any constructive criticism or ideas would be highly welcome.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Cinderella or any other fairy tale. If I did, I'd be like five hundred years old which I'm not. Everything that you don't recognize from Cinderella or any other fairy tale belongs to me. I think that about covers it.

* * *

**Phoenix Rising - Prologue**

This is the fifteenth year of the reign of King Sylbene the Merciful, and five years since the Witchcraft Clemency Act which banned the persecution of magic users and allowed the said magic user to practice their art. Never again will the member of the Circle have to cower in the shadows, using their gifts only behind locked doors and closed shutters. Never again will I see an innocent woman burned at the stake, paying for the ignorance and intolerance of others. It is time to tell my story.

Many have wondered about my story. Some know parts of it and others merely believe that they do.

Who am I?

I am Queen Marianne Eleanor Siriana Ffondrel, wife of King Sylbene Draken Ffondrel and queen of our fair realm of Aelair.

Or perhaps you know me better as Cinderella.

Oh, I'm sure you've heard the gossip – that I went to the ball ridingin an enchanted coach and wearing an enchanted gown. You've all heard how I captured the heart of the prince with the help of my fairy godmother. You all know about the mystical glass slipper which fits no feet but mine.

I do confess that I laughed at the story when I first heard it. Fairy Godmother indeed! Its amazing what nonsense the human imagination can conjure up. It bears the sketchiest resemblance to reality.

No, my real story was much more than that – much more magical, and more frightening, with happily ever after anything but guaranteed.

You don't believe me? I swear upon my magic that I speak true. I was there through the entire episode. Without further ado, my story...

* * *

A/N: I revised the prologue a little bit so everyone review and tell me if it is any better. 


	2. Ch 1: Enter the Fairy Court

**Phoenix's Legacy**

By Mistress Dawnstar

**Summary:** A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step up to her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.

**Author's Note:** I know the prologue was really short, so here's a bit more.

* * *

**Chapter One – Enter theFairy Court**

I don't think there's anyone who doesn't remember my mother. She was so vibrant, so beautiful, and so talented that a single meeting would impress her so deeply into your brain that you'd never forget her.

Words cannot do her justice, but I will do the best I can. I've said that she was beautiful, and so she was, in a way that transcends that description. Lush waves of fiery red hair framed an angular face, graceful brows extended over a pair of impossibly green eyes, and sensuous lips curled always in a smile. Oh, she was not beautiful in the classical sense – one of those delicate and petite court butterflies. Their fragile beauty would fade with the passing of time until a mere shadow remained, but not so my mother. Hers was not a beauty of the face but of the spirit – the spirit of a truly alive woman. The type of beauty would burn for eternalty

Her skin was burnished by hours spent out doors, not like the alabaster tones the ladies at court favored, but no less perfect. The light of laughter and life were never absent from those stunning eyes. I would be stating the obvious to say that she had many suitors in her youth.

It was my father whom she chose. I think it was because he loved her, ardently and fervently, unlike others who only sought her fortune and title – that of Countess of Siriana – and because he was a bit more tolerant, a little less quick to judge than the others. That trait is very important those of our kind.

I'd like to say that she loved my father, but that would be an untruth. I know that she cared for him deeply in her own way, but she never loved him. Hers was a spirit that couldn't be dominated by any man. My father loved her all the more for it.

But she did love me, the daughter of her heritage, the one who carried her gift for magic.

Did I not tell you? She was the Lady, the leader of Aelair's Circle of Magic. Her mage name was, unsurprisingly, Phoenix.

What? You don't know about the Circle of Magic? Well, I suppose not. It was one of the best-kept secrets of this realm. It would be folly to relate the Circle's entire history, but I'll give you a brief overview so that you'll be able to follow the rest of my tale.

The circle was first formed during the Dark Interregnum - a period of time about five hundred years ago when a group of wizards seized the throne of Aelair and initiated a reign of terror. The circle's purpose was to dispose the usurpers and to restore the rightful monarch to the throne.

With their help, the rightful birthline was restored.

Ha! I bet you didn't know the King Hethic the Great was aided by witches, now did you.

But I hesitate again. Witch is still a term with dark connotation. We of the Circle prefer to dubbed ourselves sorcerers.

The members of the Circle expected everything to return to its former prosperity, but that was not to be. The dark wizards had breed the fear of magic. The first thing the monarch did upon his return to the throne was to pass a string of brutal and oppressive anti-magic laws. These laws were aimed at those who practice dark magic, but ordinary peasant could hardly tell the difference. A witch hunting frenzy set the countryside aflame. I can not tell you many hundreds, more than 90 innocent, were burnt that year.

The bloodlust of the people would not distinguish between friend and foe. Members of the circle were hunt down by the men and women they risked their lives to protect, trapped by the confinement spells they had crafted. The few lucky ones went into hiding. The Circle took on a new purpose - to protect and educate young children born with the gift of magic. Over time it became an intricate network that included people of every class.

Of course, for the sake of survival no member knew the true names of all the other members. We used mage names, names that we chose for ourselves. Only the Lady, the leader of the circle knew the true identity of each member.

Overtime, the witch-hunting epidemic came to an end. Aside from the occasional drought (after which the village or towns folk would drag out the oldest and ugliest member of their community to burn) things were quiet.

The Circle toiled to keep it that way. Though few non-magicians knew, the Circle took upon itself the task of regulating the misuse of magic. The sorcerers and sorceresses of the Circle thought that if no further cases of magical misuse shows up, the public might revise its opinion of magic users and repeal the oppressive anti-magic legislation – vain hope, that.

But, the Circle has undeniably protected Aelair innumerable times from hostile magic in the last five hundred years. In fact, many of the members jokingly referred to themselves as the Fairy Court.

Ah! I can see from your startled glance that you didn't know that this was where the tales of good fairies originated.

Thank goodness that's done. Now, let us move onward with my story.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, what do you think? Okay so far?

Revised - so hopefully no more gramatical errors. If there are, please tell me.


	3. Ch 2: The Innocence of Childhood

**Phoenix's Legacy**

By Mistress Dawnstar

**Summary:** A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step up to her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.

* * *

**Ch. 2 – The Innocence of Childhood**

My childhood was one that, I think, any girl would envy.

I was in every way my mother's child. I had inherited her flame colored hair and even skin tone. I was the split image of my mother when she was a child, except for my eyes – I inherited my father's storm gray eyes.

Emotionally, I received in full measure her spirit, her thirst for adventure, and her love of the outdoors. (And soon my skin reached the same tan tone as hers.) Unfortunately, I did not have her patience or gentleness to level the mixture. It was not easy for me to restrain my impetuous nature.

My mother was of one of the oldest and wealthiest families, so naturally I lacked for nothing. Nothing was denied me. I grew up thinking that had I wanted the stars, all I had to do was to snap my fingers and a servant would fetch them for me. Oh, I was a spoiled little brat.

* * *

I can see you shaking your head at me now, sitting here in all my royal dignity, but learning staidness and patience was the hardest lesson of my life.

* * *

My family spent most of the year at our estate in the County of Siriana. How I loved to go riding among the ancient trees and rolling hills of my homeland. I received my first little pony when I was four and by the time I was seven, I knew all the lands within a two-mile radius of our manor as well as any of my father's seasoned hunters. 

My father, rather prudishly I thought, always forced me to ride with a guard or a manservant. It became a sort of game to see how quickly I could shake off my companion. Sometimes it was my mother who went with me. I never tried to escape from her; I doubt that I could have even if I'd wanted to. She was an even better rider than I was.

But I never did want to. She knew where all the most fascinating places on our estate were, where the secret glades in the forest were, where the animals came together to drink from the stream, where the doe and fawn nestle in the underbrush...

For the earliest years of my childhood, I was suffered to run wild on my parent's estate, with no one to restrain my behavior and if any tried, they'd be treated to one of my infamous tantrums. My mother and, to a lesser extent, my nurse Khedsa were the only two who commanded my obedience.

The first major event in my young life came shortly after my seventh birthday. My mother was taking her annual trip to Lyndale, the capital of our fair realm, to visit her childhood friend Queen Milna Cenira Ffondrel, my father had business at the capital and for the first time, I was to be a part of the entourage.

I had only been to the capital once before in my brief existence, when I was presented to the royal court shortly after my birth, so naturally, I didn't remember anything. I was so enthusiastic about the prospect that I even suffered Khedsa to dress me in a little girl frock on the morning of our arrival. (I normally would have protested strenuously. How is one expected to move around without tripping over all those frills?)

The sight of the massive iron gate that guarded the city (crowned by the royal serpent of the Ffondrel family and decorated by twining iron vines) fill me with awe. I was no less impressed by the rest of the winding trip up to the royal palace. There was so many things to see, to hear, and to smell. It quite overwhelmed the poor, ignorant, young country lass that I was. (I'm sure you're aware that the royal palace is situated at the center of the city. The main road winds around the palace in ever decreasing circles until it reaches the palace – apparently the king who built the city was over-fond of long, winding processions. Several lesser streets radiate out of the center like the hubs on a wheel, giving the strong impression of a spider web.)

We were cordially welcomed by a troop of servants at the palace. Briskly and efficiently they took charge of our horses and possessions. Two young women detached themselves to escort my family to the hall where court was being held.

The five of us navigated through the myriad halls of the royal palace. My eyes and curiosity was caught by the beautiful mosaic walls.. I paused to examine the pictures more closely. Pieces of colored glass were cunning fitted together to form mesmerizing pictures of the great battles of the past. There in front of me was the courageous visage of an armored knight, atop a rearing black stallion. To my right was a majestic king, striking down a foul and withered hag. To my left... Where did my parents go?

They were nowhere in sight. I was so dazzled by the mosaics on the wall that I couldn't even recall which direction we were going.

Well, I wasn't the type to break down and cry. I was determined to locate my missing parents (and tell them just what I thought of irresponsible adults who forgot their own child). It shouldn't be too hard; there were only about 2000 rooms in the palace.

I took a right at the end of the passage, and then another. I marched briskly down the hallway to the opening at the end and came upon the most beautiful rose garden that I've ever seen.

Oh, how to describe the heavenly scent of summer roses to one who has never sampled their delights. I spotted perfect red blossom and reached out an avaricious hand.

"You can't do that."

I whirled around and came face to face with a young lad, perhaps a year or two my elder. Locks of wavy brown hair framed a plump, boyish face endowed with a pair of soft brown eyes. "Why can't I?" I demanded indignantly. Little children, I especially, hate to be forbidden to do something.

"Because roses have thorns. Everyone knows that." I wanted to smack that oh-so-superior smile off his face.

Well, I simply couldn't let that challenge pass by. I leaned forward and tugged at the rose stem. I yelped as wicked thorn penetrated my tender flesh.

"Told you so." I scowled furiously at him, my pride more grievious hurt than my hands.

"Of course, I wouldn't expect a girl to know anything." The boy continued.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Girls don't have brains. My father says that girls are only good for bearing children and looking pretty."

That did it. Hell hath no fury like woman (or girl) scorned. Who cared that I was wearing an expensive and grotesquely elaborate contraption. Forget being on my best behavior. Nevermind the identity of the obviously noble boy. I didn't even care that he was older and quite possibly stronger than I was. I flung myself, fists flailing, on him with a wail of fury.

At first he seemed to be reluctant to return my blows – some lingering vestige of chivalry perhaps - but after a nasty jab gave him a black eye, he seemed to decide that noble behavior only went so far. By virtue of superior weight and strength, he managed to pin my body under his, though I struggled gamely on.

Suddenly, a pair of hands entered my vision and pulled the boy off. Other hands helped me up from the ground and dusted me off.

"Lady Marianne! What do you think you are doing? Is this lady-like behavior?" It was Khedsa.

A little ways off, I saw with vindictive satisfaction that my tormentor was nursing a black eye and receiving his share of the scolding. "...were you think! Scrabbling around on the ground like a commoner. Absolutely disgraceful behavior. What would your father say if he saw you like this, your highness?"

Your highness? He was a prince? I felt my jaw drop. My face heated up.

Just then my mother, with her uncanny sense of dramatic entrances, swept in accompanied by a strange lady. She took one look at our disheveled appearances, and raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Why, Milna." She said in a light, amused drawl. "It appears that the children have already met. Marianne, this is Prince Sylbene Edward Ffondrel. Your highness, my daughter the Lady Marianne Eleanor Siriana."

By this time, we had attract quite an audience; I gritted my teeth at the chuckles of amusement floating around the garden as I stood there in a torn dress with my hair in frightful disarray and scratches running down my arm from sharp pebbles in the ground. I did the only thing that I could under the circumstances:

I straightened, summoning all composure at my disposal, and curtseyed to the Prince. "What a pleasure it is to meet you, your highness." I said in a saccharine and obviously faked tone. "I do apologize for the misunderstanding. I must remember to make a formal apology sometime later. Oh, wait, I can't – because girls don't have brains."

With that elegant parting shot, I stalked out of the garden, trailing the tatters of my torn dignity.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to those who review. I know that the pace is really slow, but I've got most of the background out now so it should pick up. Please review. Tell me what you think of Marianne. 

Revised. Please comment.


	4. Ch 3: Heritage Uncovered

**Phoenix's Legacy**

By Mistress Dawnstar

**Summary:** A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step up to her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.

**

* * *

**

**Ch. 3 – Heritage of Magic**

I got lost again, of course, and asking the servants (all of whom had already heard of my little encounter with his Royal Highness) for directions to my room did nothing to improve my temper.

It was with a sore pair of feet and an even sorer pride that I finally reach my suite. Just when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse, there was Khedsa waiting to deliver a blistering lecture.

Well, I had had enough. I had just had a fistfight with an arrogant princeling, been laughed at by the entire loyal court, been snickered at by every servant I encountered, and now my own treacherous nurse was going to stab me in the back. I did the only thing a sensible young lady could and proper behavior be damned. I threw a temper tantrum.

There is a certain art to throwing a truly successful tantrum. You have to start small so that you can build up to the finale. Begin with a bit of sniffling and, if you can manage it, make your eyes fill up with moisture. Don't under any circumstances rub your eyes; that'll only make you red-eyed and spoil the effect of the innocent, put upon expression that you're cultivating.

Next, throw some accusations around. You know – you don't love me, you never care about me, you never let me do anything, etc. It is always expedient to shunt blame onto someone else, especially if you're the one to blame. Be careful to start small and increase both the intensity of the accusations and the volume of your voice. I usually start with a small tremulous sob and build up to a triumphant crescendo of a wail.

The next step would be to burst into full-fledged tears, collapse onto the floor, and start pounding the carpeting with fists and feet. (And if it's not carpeting, I highly advice that you skip this step. However much sympathy limping might gain you, it is not worth the pain. I know.)

And if they have not relented yet, it's time to go into the object throwing stage. Always, always go for the most expensive, fragile, irreplaceable thing you can find.

If they still haven't relented, either they're heartless or they're Mother.

* * *

By the way, if any of my children gets hold of this, I'll know where it came from. Be warned! I can still throw a mean right hook.

* * *

Back to the story. I had just worked myself up to the item throwing stage. I fixed the first target of my rage, a delicate glass wren, with a furious glare. As I reached for it... 

It shattered into a million minute fragments.

I was completely shocked. Tentatively, I glanced at another ornament, this one a ceramic cat. Nothing happened. So what happened the first time? I considered and then glared once more, this time with the full force of intent behind it. The ceramic cat exploded with a satisfying boom.

Amazed at my newfound talent, I gleefully obliterated two more ornaments, ignoring Khedsa's frantic cries for me to desist.

Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder and forcibly wrenched me around. A stinging slap landed on my cheek. The furious words died on my lips as I looked into the blazing green eyes of my mother.

"Are you out of your mind?" She hissed. Her fingers on my shoulder dug into my flesh like claws. I was so frightened that I could barely emit a squeak of pain. I had never seen my calm, amiable mother so angry, though on hindsight I realize that the expression in her eyes was not anger but fear.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? Do you know what could have happened to you if anyone but Khedsa and I saw you? You irresponsible child!" Her tone was the more menacing for its softness. She pointed with her free hand at the fireplace, cold and empty for the summer. A hot orange blaze sprang up at her command though there was nothing to burn.

She dragged me to stand in front of the fire. "You would burn, little fool. Not anyone, not I, not your father, not even the circle, could lift a finger to save you." She grabbed my hand. "Know how it feels? No? Then, learn." She lunged forwards, thrusting our entwined hands into the center of the flames.

Hot, unbearably hot pain erupted in my hand and raced up my arm. I remember screaming, just once, before the darkness took me and I fainted.

* * *

The touch of cool cloth on my forehead woke me up from my black slumber. I was in a bed, liberally piled with blankets, down comforters, and plush pillows. My arm and hand had been neatly bandaged and the pain had faded down to a mere throb. I glanced blearily up into Khedsa's calm gray eyes. 

"Don't try to speak." Khedsa said, guessing my intent. "You've had a little accident. I found you on the ground with blood running down your arm. I bandaged you up as well as I could, but I you should remain in bed to recover from the shock and blood loss." Her eyes warned me not to raise any objections.

"Your parents are waiting outside. Are you strong enough to receive them?" She asked.

I nodded mutely.

"Then, I will send them in." Khedsa turned and walked to the door. She flung it open and made a beckoning motion to someone waiting outside.

My mother rushed into the room, closely followed by my father. She flung her arms around me and burst into tear. "Oh, darling, we were so worried. Khedsa told us what happened." She hugged me close to her chest and took the opportunity to hiss into my ear. "Play along. Explain later." She continued loudly. "How are you doing? Do you need more pillows? Oh, we were so frightened."

"You gave your mother and I quite the scare." My father said, moving to the bedside and taking my uninjured hand. "What in the ten kingdoms were you trying to do?"

"I...I..." My mind felt like an overcooked noodle. "I don't remember."

"It's just a touch of shock. It's perfectly normal, considering the condition that I found her in." Khedsa interjected before Father could question me more closely. "All she needs is a bit of quiet and rest and she'll be up and around before you know it."

"Then, we'll leave you to it." Father said briskly. "Come, my dear." He gently escorted a still weeping mother out of the room.

* * *

A/N: What! Only one review? Doesn't anyone love me? 

Thanks to Picchic for reviewing.

The action is picking up. You guys know the drill. Review, review, review.


	5. Ch 4: Magic, chocolate, purple rhinos

**Phoenix's Legacy**

By Mistress Dawnstar

**Summary:** A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step up to her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.

**

* * *

**

**Ch.4 -Magic, Hot Chocolates, and Purple Rhinos**

That night, I closed my eyes and dreamed:

_We were there, Mother and I, in what appeared to be the library back home. The two of us sat in plushy red velvet chairs facing each other across a roaring fire. Her face was calm and serene, as common place as our familiar surroundings. However, I knew that mine was suffused with anger and hurt._

_"How could you?" I spat out angrily. "How could you do that to me? Hurt me? I thought you cared about me. I thought you loved me." I felt tears of fury and hurt well up in my eyes. "How could you?" I repeated with a sob._

_She half stood and reached out a hand to comfort me._

_"Don't touch me." I yelled._

_She sat back in her chair and regarded me with sorrowful eyes. "I did what was necessary. When you get older, when you have children of your own, you'll understand it."_

_"No, I won't. I would never hurt my children. A mother would never hurt her own child."_

_"Not even to protect them? By the circle, child, what you were doing was dangerous. You know what the laws against magic are. Had anyone but Khedsa or me seen, it would have been the fires for you." She said harshly. "I did what I did to protect you."_

_I gave her look of utter disbelief._

_"This country is dangerous for those of our kind. People are suspicious of even the slightest hint of magic. Thousands are sent to the fires on much slenderer evidence than what you've provided with that thoughtless display of yours." She continued. _

_"Don't think it isn't true. I've seen it with my own eyes. Not a single one of those victims deserved their fate and all of them died in agony. Do you think I could bear to see my own daughter suffer that fate. I want you to think of the fires and remember the pain whenever you are tempted again to use your powers. Remember and fear it. It is the greatest gift I can give you, the only one that can protect you. Hate me if you will; that is a sacrifice I'm willing to make."_

_"Who is this 'our kind'?" I asked flatly, still resentful._

_She laughed mirthlessly. "Haven't you guessed by now? We are magic users, sorcerers, dedicates of the arcane arts." She held up one hand. Red fire laced with gold twisted around her fingers._

_"You're a witch." I said in an accusatory tone. "Witches are evil."_

_My mother looked tired. "Am I evil, Marianne?"_

_I opened my mouth for a hot retort, but hesitated. My mother had always been there for me. She had comforted me during times of distress and chased away my childhood fears. She was the one who took me riding and showed me all the secret woodland knells. That was the mother that I thought I knew. Yet she was a witch. She had hurt me, burnt me with her wicked fire, but she believed it was for my own good._

_But everyone knows that witches are evil._

_I shook my head, not knowing what to think._

_My mother pressed her case. "And Khedsa, is she evil too? You yourself used magic today. Do you feel evil?"_

_I was unwilling to look her in the eye. My gaze dropped and I suddenly became intent on examining my fingernails. "Everyone says so."_

_"Who is this everyone? I've never spoken with him." I heard her sigh. "Magic isn't evil. Like all forms of power it can be used either for good or for evil. It is merely a tool in the hands of the wielder, like a hoe or a sword. Witches are only human being with a special talent, the same as someone who can - say - draw especially well. They are no better or worse than any ordinary human being."_

_Was Mother evil? Was I evil? I had used magic today; I can't deny that, but I don't feel particularly wicked. I just feel like myself. Why then do I hear talk all my life of the wicked, deceitful witches? Why then do even the lowliest servant boys dream of a day when they could discover and denounce a witch and then later be hailed as heroes?_

_"I don't understand."_

_"It is the fear and ignorance of the common folk that has labeled us as evil. The wickedness is entirely in their minds. Most of the time the ones who are accused of witchcraft are entirely innocent and have never cast a single spell in their lives."_

_"So you're really not evil?" I asked cautiously. It was a fairly inane question, I know, but bear in mind that I was only seven at the time._

_"No, I swear it upon my magic."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_"When a magic user swears upon his orher magic, you know that he or she is speaking the truth. If asorceress breaks the oath that she made upon her magic, she will lose her powers. It is not an oath that we take lightly."_

_"Where are we? Did your magic transport us back home?"_

_"We're in your mind."_

_"My mind?"_

_"Your dream to be exact. This is one of the few places where we may talk without fear of discovery."_

_"If this is my dream, how did you get in here?"_

_My mother laughed and held up her glowing hand. Oh, right. Magic. The idea was harder to get used to than I had thought. I suddenly noticed something._

_"Hey, I'm not injured." I peered more closely at her. "You're not either, but I thought you thrust both of our hands into the fire."_

_"It was my fire so it would not harm me and your dream self has never been injured."_

_"Does that mean that I'll still injured when I wake up?" My mouth turned up in what was the beginning of a pout. _

_"Only on the outside. You won't feel injured. My healing spell will take care of that."_

_"Why does it have to look like I'm injured?"_

_"Firstly, we need a reason to keep you in your room until the end of this visit. I don't trust you among others with your newly materialized talent and shaky control. Secondly, it was meant to teach a lesson and it would beat the purpose to get rid of it at once."_

_I lowered my gaze to my lap. I didn't want to think about that incident; it still made me feel angry and hurt. I changed the subject again."If this is my dream, does that mean that I can change it?"_

_She nodded solemnly, "Yes, just imagine something and it'll be here."_

_"Okay." I squeezed my eyes close and concentrated on having a hot cup of chocolate drink in my hand. Warm pressure there made me open my eyes. Sure enough, there was the cup. I grinned triumphantly and lifted it up to take a sip._

_I spat it out immediately. "Yuck! That doesn't taste like any hot chocolate that I've had. Blech! It feels like sand running down my throat."_

_"Did you remember to imagine the taste and texture?"_

_Oh, right. I tried again, this time imagining the sweet chocolate taste and the soothing warmth as it flows down my throat. I took another, more cautionary sip. "Hey, it worked."_

_"Very nice." She seemed on the verge of laughter._

_"It's not funny." I sulked._

_"If it makes you feel better, it's better than my first try. I wished for a purple rhinoceros. Oh my, that was a disaster."_

_I gaped at my mother, sure that I had heard wrong. "A purple rhinoceros?" _

_She nodded solemnly and then laughed. "It seemed a good idea at the time. Of course I was only a few year older than you at the time." _

_"What happened? Oh nevermind, I don't want to know." Giving the difficulty that I had with the hot chocolate, I don't even want to think about the sort of catastrophe that would have accompanied a purple rhinoceros. I rapidly changed the subject.__"So Khedsa is a witch too."_

_"We prefer sorceress, but yes."_

_"Is that why she always manages to find me, no matter how hard I hide from her?"_

_Mother chuckled, "I imagine so."_

_I took a deep breath. "Alright, tell me more about this magic business."_

It took the entire night for her to explain the Circle to me and the following two nights to relate its history. The next two nights were spent discussing my magical education. At the end, if I wasn't completely enthusiastic about the idea, I was at least resigned to being a sorceress.

Even though my relationship with my mother never returned to our past level of rapture and trust, I nevertheless learned to respect her and the struggle she had undergone to hide her gift from the world and to track down and teach other young mages before their talents broke lose from them as mine had and incriminated them. Even with the nation ranged against, she and her indomitable spirit has made a life for herself – if not a carefree life then at least a happy one.

But, even as I learned to admire and esteem her, I also pitied her. She has always been forced to hide her powers in shadows as if it was not a gift but something to be ashamed off. Indeed, she has always lived in fear for her very life. I came to realize something very important – I could never live with such a fate.

* * *

**A/N:** Yikes! It's been a while since I updated. There's just been too much going on in my life. I apologize. 

Again, I thank all of the wonderful people who've reviewed.

I know this is really slow chapter, but it needed to be written. I promise the action will pick up in the next chapter.


	6. Ch 5: Into Ashes

**Phoenix's Legacy**

By Mistress Dawnstar

**Summary: **A kingdom where magic is outlawed, a young sorceress struggling to step into her mother's shoes, a young girl forced to walk the thin line between life and death, expediency and love. Cinderella with a whole new twist. Please R and R.

**Author's Note:** Oh my gosh, it's been forever since I've updated. I've been so lately with school, but now that summer is here, I should be able to churn out chapter at a fairly rapid pace. Don't worry. I WILL finish this story. I've still got a few plot twists up my sleeve.

This chapter is dedicated to **Black Butterfly90** for reviewing all of the previous chapters in one go. Thanks very much.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Into Ashes**

At last it was time for us to end this abominable trip and return to our dear manor in Siriana. Again, I was wearing one of those torture devices they call flocks. My arm was still in a sling...for appearance's sake only. Thanks to my mother's art (magic) it had healed a long time ago. However, my miraculous return to health would have been difficult to explain.

Unfortunately so…the dratted thing itched dreadfully.

Anyway, I watched the servants load up the carriage and I was feeling quite subdued...

* * *

What did you say?! You find that hard to believe? What's so hard to believe? And before you answer that consider whether or not you want to spend the next fifty years as a black-foot ferret.

Why a ferret?

Well, toads are too puerile and I've never quite got the spell for swans correct. I think it's because I can never find any dried snake feet...

Anyway, back to the story. I do not like to remember what happened next, so I want to get through this as fast as possible. No interruptions. That means you.

* * *

We were just preparing to leave when a hard tapping noise caught our attention. A few moments later, a squad of the king's elite guards – twenty men in all – came around a corner and into sight. Apparently the tapping noise was the sound of their boots on the stone courtyard. They were in full battle regalia with silver breastplates, violently violet tunics, and shiny helms with huge plumes – ostrich, I think – dyed a vivid purple and silver. 

They were a magnificent sight...

I was unimpressed. It's a miracle that they could even see with all the glare from their armor. And those plumes, ostrich or whatever they were, are just plain silly. I mean, if they ever have to go into battle, those plumes would immediate shout to the enemy'I'm important. Shoot me!'

* * *

Hmm...I'll have to take the issue up with my husband tomorrow.

* * *

Now where was I...Oh yes, so the men came to a stop in front of our carriage. The man in the center front – I assume the leader since he had TWO eye-smattering plumes on his helmet – stepped from the ranks and called imperiously "Countess Gwendylen of Siriana."

My mother stepped forward. "Yes?" Her voice was calm, but her hands, hidden from the soldiers''gazes behind her back were trembling.

"You are hereby accused using witchcraft and vile sorcery. You are to come with us." The man said flatly.

My mother's hands convulsed, once, but her voice remained steady. "There must be some mistake."

"No mistake. Come with us. Resist and we will kill your entire company."

All color drained from my mother's face, but she held her head high. "I demand to know the name of my accuser. I...I demand to know who would spread such malicious rumors. I have never cast an evil spell in my entire life."

"Your demands are denied. Come with us now. The magistrates are not patient men." As he spoke, two of his fellows stepped forwards and flanked my mother, one on each side. The one on the right produced a thick iron chain, which he proceeded to wrap around her wrists. My mother cried out in pain as the crude chain dug into her tender flesh. The other soldier immediately slapped her across her face. "Shut up, you filthy witch."

At this, I snapped out of my state of shocked stupefaction. I felt outrage bubble up within me. How dare they treat my mother so! I was prepared to leap forward and have a go at them, tooth and nail, but a pair of strong arm grabbed me and restrained me.

I glanced up into the face of my captor. It was Khedsa. "Let me go." I hissed vehemently. She said nothing, but tightened her hold on me. No matter how I struggled, I couldn't break free.

Desperate, I tried to will a hole to open under the feet of the soldiers, but I felt another's magic wrapping around mine, suppressing it. I did not need to see the concentration on Khedsa's face to know who was responsible.

"Mother! Mother! Come back!" I screamed as I struggled, both mentally and physically, but in the end, I could only watch helplessly as they took my mother away.

That was the last time I saw her alive.

* * *

We ended up prolonging the stay. I still held hope that this was just some terrible mistake and that I'd see my mother walking in with a smile on her face and laughter in her eyes. By the king's laws, no witch can be found guilty and burned until he or she pleads guilty. My mother would never do so, if not out of self-preservation then at least out of professional pride. She was telling the truth when she claimed never to have cast an evil spell. She was not that type of magic user. 

But, what I didn't know was that the king's men have ways of wringing confessions from even the most stubborn of souls.

* * *

Late that night, I was roused from my fitful slumber by...well I'm not sure by what. Perhaps it was a breath of wind, or the rustling a of squirrel darting into the bushes outside my window, but one moment I was tossing and turning and the next, I was wide-awake. 

I sniffed. There was something in the air that was tantalizingly familiar. What was it?

Then, I had it...my mother's perfume.

I leapt out of bed. "Mother!" I cried, full of hope. "Mother, where are you?"

There was no answer. I rushed to the door, but no one was there.

"Marianne...darling..." The softest of whispers came from behind me, so soft as to be almost indistinguishable from the whine of the wind, but I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

I whirled around to see my mother, surrounded by a glowing nimbus, standing beside my bed. "Mother." I cried happily, taking a step forward and raising my arms to embrace her.

She forestalled me with a hand. "No darling, I can't stay long. I just wanted to see you again, and to say goodbye." She said in that same ethereal whisper.

"Goodbye! But why? Where are you going?" I cried, a sudden feeling of dread descending over me.

"A good place. You need not worry about me." She smiled. "Don't grieve overmuch. You have so much life ahead of you and I want to you to live it. I will not be here to guide you but I have ensured that there are those who would. The strongest of spells is that cast on a witch's last breath, you know."

"What do you mean? I don't understand." Though in my heart I fear that I did.

My mother only smiled gently. "You will, in time." She stepped forward. As her arms wrapped around me, she whispered. "Now, for my last gift to you."

It felts as if my entire body exploded in pain. Fire flooded my very soul, consuming me. I screamed, but I heard no sound. The world whirled around me. As my consciousness slipped away, I heard my mother's soft whisper. "Remember, my last gift to you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** And no, her mother is not being delibrately cruel.What sort of mother do you think she is? In fact, she did not mean to cause any pain at all. She is NOT doing what she did two chapters ago. Trust me, but you'll have to wait until the next chapter (or maybe the one after that) to find out what she did do.

**A little excerpt from the next chapter:**

"Go away." I said flatly. "I hate you."

"Marianne." She said warningly. "Look, I can explain."

I exploded. "Explain nothing. You let them take her. You let them kill her. She's dead. My mother's dead. Don't you understand that!"

**End Excerpt**

As always, press the little button on the bottom left and leave me a little note. Criticism is welcomed.


End file.
